flora
The laughter has Flora doubled over with it, her stomach aching in the best way, and for a second—just a second—she nearly leans over and plants a big, wet, obnoxiously noisy kiss on Kaisel’s cheek. But no, that would be too much, or not enough? Either way, instead, she shoots him a sly smirk and purrs, "Guess I’ll just have to suffer through your pasty chest. I don’t want raccoon tan lines on my face from sunglasses."
The moment of confusion that clouds his face as he tries to parse out her "do you, do me" line is glorious. Flora watches it unfold like a drama in three acts, delight dancing in every curve of her expression. She doesn’t let him off easy, either. "You know," she muses with theatrical innocence, "if I did draw a star on you, it’d make a pretty solid pick-up line. I could send girls your way and you could tell them all about the sorts of wishes that were in your capacity to grant."
Up the stairs she goes with a sway in her hips, setting her water beside his before peeking over her shoulder. And when she sees Kaisel pull his tank top off in one smooth motion, her eyes sweep over him before she demurely glances away, hiding the slow drag of her gaze like it's a secret she means to savour.
"Alright," she hums as he announces his intent, stepping up before him. Her fingers slide beneath the hem of her oversized shirt and pull it up and over her head in a single, practiced motion, revealing golden skin and the glint of her pasties catching the sun. She doesn’t make a show of it, not exactly—but the way her bare back arches slightly as she gathers up any stray curls and lifts them off her neck is not unintentional. At least this time around she's still wearing her shorts, short as they are.
She shoots him a glance over her shoulder, one brow raised, the hint of a grin playing on her lips. "Try not to get too distracted," she teases lightly. "We’re protecting my skin, not giving you a religious experience."
The moment of confusion that clouds his face as he tries to parse out her "do you, do me" line is glorious. Flora watches it unfold like a drama in three acts, delight dancing in every curve of her expression. She doesn’t let him off easy, either. "You know," she muses with theatrical innocence, "if I did draw a star on you, it’d make a pretty solid pick-up line. I could send girls your way and you could tell them all about the sorts of wishes that were in your capacity to grant."
Up the stairs she goes with a sway in her hips, setting her water beside his before peeking over her shoulder. And when she sees Kaisel pull his tank top off in one smooth motion, her eyes sweep over him before she demurely glances away, hiding the slow drag of her gaze like it's a secret she means to savour.
"Alright," she hums as he announces his intent, stepping up before him. Her fingers slide beneath the hem of her oversized shirt and pull it up and over her head in a single, practiced motion, revealing golden skin and the glint of her pasties catching the sun. She doesn’t make a show of it, not exactly—but the way her bare back arches slightly as she gathers up any stray curls and lifts them off her neck is not unintentional. At least this time around she's still wearing her shorts, short as they are.
She shoots him a glance over her shoulder, one brow raised, the hint of a grin playing on her lips. "Try not to get too distracted," she teases lightly. "We’re protecting my skin, not giving you a religious experience."
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
